


Let the Water Come Hot

by shotgunsinlace



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Dirty Talk, Emotional Baggage, Higgs Monaghan Being Higgs Monaghan, Hot Springs & Onsen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Instability, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/pseuds/shotgunsinlace
Summary: Maybe it’s a DOOMs thing. Maybe Sam is more into a certain someone than he expected – since, apparently, thinking about them while in the shower is enough to summon said terrorist right into the distro center’s room.OR - three times Sam and Higgs had amoment.
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges/Higgs Monaghan
Comments: 62
Kudos: 505





	1. Chapter 1

Forehead to the cool wall of the shower, Sam wishes he could control the temperature of the water as it sluices down his hair and back in an unsatisfyingly warm fashion. After nearly a week of trekking through impassible ranges, hitting prepper stations so far off the beaten path not even the odradek could pick them up, and spending his downtime in deteriorating shelters – it’s a goddamn relief to find himself in a distro center.

Significantly less crowded than Knot cities, distro centers also have hot food in their favor. Porters know to give him a wide berth despite the passing greetings that are occasionally shouted out, and Sam likes it that way. The convenience of comfortable living (ignoring the whole being bled in his sleep thing) and granted space makes his needing to be among people to get the job done far more palatable.

If only he could make the water hotter.

He watches it swirl down the drain – clean, at this point – but Sam can still feel the heavy substance of tar and chiralium clinging to his atoms. No amount of scrubbing can really get it all out, not when getting caught in BT areas three times over the course of four days still lingers fresh in his mind. He’s usually sharper, more alert, quicker. But something has been bogging him down lately, and he can’t pinpoint what it is.

Sam is damn good at compartmentalizing. Anxiety and fears take a backseat when he’s out and about, easily pushed out of his mind and out of reach. Makes his life easier to handle. As of late, however, a recent encounter haunts his subconsciousness like a recurring nightmare. 

_Weight – deceptively heavy – unevenly displaced above him. Cold, hard earth against his back – moisture sinking its phantom tendrils through the thick fabric of his jumpsuit. Slow grind, hot lips, slick tongue that lit up Sam’s nerve endings with a type of energy not entirely different from the kind triggered by his aversion to touch, but headier. Thrilling. Arousing. Digging out from the depths of his psyche a desire he’s long since given up on ever truly experiencing…_

Sam shivers as he reaches up to scrub at his bicep. It’s okay to let his mind wander here, in the privacy of his room, with an added barrier between him and BRIDGES surveillance. No BTs, no MULES, no terrorists –except for the one sinking his grimy little fingers into Sam’s unexpected fantasies.

Substituting his strand for fists granted him one form of release, the sheer adrenaline of knocking Higgs down a few notches working better than any smart drug out there. It had been quick and dirty, a taunt turned bloody turned overtly sexual when Higgs straddled his hips in order to knock Sam’s jaw out of place, only to stop when the proximity and subsequent friction had made Sam gasp involuntarily. As humiliating as the whole ordeal was, it gave Sam some sort of satisfaction seeing Higgs tripped up and uncertain despite the sarcastic comment he was quick to deliver.

Had it all been worth it? He can’t say for certain. Not being too invested in the rebuilding of America, or that whole bullshit about connecting people for whatever reason Die-Hardman keeps preaching about, Sam doesn’t think too much of wanting to blow off some steam with the man who’s involuntarily gotten his engine going. Not that he would ever initiate any sort of contact, because all things considered, Higgs is still a fucking asshole.

A fucking asshole with a pretty okay face. Solid build, too. Lither than him, taller—

Sam frowns down at himself as his body reacts to his thoughts, reminding him that he’s very capable of experiencing desire in a safe space. A near nonexistent libido can sometimes rear its fat, ugly head.

Without sparing it another thought, Sam wraps his fingers around the warm stiffness of his cock. It sends a jolt up his spine, standing his hairs on end and dragging a mute gasp out of him. He feels guilty thinking about anyone as he jerks himself off, but try as he may, that motherfucker’s face keeps popping up every time he closes his eyes. Always so smug and borderline unhinged.

He braces himself against the shower wall with his free hand, the other focusing on the swollen cockhead, a calloused thumb rubbing insistent circles along the slit until his hips twitch for more. Sam groans, basking in what little pleasure he can actually derive from the life he lives.

He has every intention of finishing as quick as possible, but a sensation not unlike a pinch to the back of his neck slows him to a stop. He can smell the chiralium, almost taste its metallic tang on the back of his tongue. Sam can feel it – a foreign presence, eyes boring into his back despite the shower stall’s modesty screen.

There is a long moment of silence before laughter pierces through the sterile air of the room.

The sound would be grating under different circumstances, that maniacal sort of chuckle that is barely contained within the chest of a human man, but as it is, with a fist still wrapped around his hard cock it makes Sam twitch for all the wrong reasons.

“Curiosity may have killed the cat,” Higgs announces from the other side of the screen, “but it looks like this cat just landed himself a full-course meal.”

The words are breathy in a way only Higgs can possibly manage. Underneath that barely tamed control is an undercurrent of sadistic pleasure, and each word that slips out of him sounds like he’s on the verge of the best fuck he’s ever had. It’s as annoying as it is intoxicating.

“You think too loud, Sam. For a moment it felt like you were honest-to-fuck dying with my name on your lips. Needless to say, I had to drop in and take a peek as to what was going on, see if my dreams were finally coming true.”

“Fuck off, Higgs.”

“Oh, you wound me.” Even though Sam can’t see him, he can picture Higgs swooning dramatically with a hand on his chest. “I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting to catch you with your pants down. Literally.”

Sam makes a sound akin to a warning growl, tensing up as he feels Higgs loom closer. He doesn’t react when the shower screen swishes open, leaving him horribly exposed to the man hell-bent on making his life as difficult as humanly possible. Sam nearly turns, considers decking him straight in the jaw, but the throbbing hard-on between his legs prevents him from doing anything too reckless.

To Sam’s mortification, Higgs hums with something akin to interest.

“Trust our dear Mr. Sam Porter Bridges to have one of the best asses in this fucked up place.”

“You’re still the biggest.”

Higgs laughs. “Maybe so.” He steps into the shower fully clothed, his arms on either side of Sam’s head as he rests his palms against the slick wall. Higgs leans forward – dangerously, suffocatingly close – but is careful not to make any sort of contact with Sam’s naked body. He hums against the shell of Sam’s ear, breathlessly muttering: “Doesn’t that just make me ripe for a good fuck? C’mon, Sam. Put little ol’ me in my place. I know you want to.”

Sam squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he could phase through the wall or even jump anywhere else. His cock throbs at the proximity, leaks at the salaciousness lacing Higgs’ words. For one brief and agonizing moment of horror, Sam wishes Higgs would just lay his hands on him. That’s not his game, though. Higgs loves to push, taunt, bask in his own orgasmic sense of self-importance. 

“I can smell how much you want to,” Higgs whispers, words hitched as if hearing himself talk is enough to get him off. “Half a landmass away and I still felt you tugging at me, desperate, like a man drowning, reaching out for his savior. Can’t blame me for popping in to see what the fuck was going on.”

Sam swallows a breath, daring to look at the wall where their hands are but a breadths width away from touching. The instance of silence that follows chills his gut as he watches Higgs’ index finger minutely shift to ghost along the outer curve of Sam’s hand – not quite touching, but the static definitely palpable.

“Wanna tell me how many times you’ve done this? I wonder what your friends at BRIDGES would make of it. Their stoic little Sam, always so detached, so above human touch… jacking it to thoughts of the terrorists’ leader. Nothing like something forbidden to get those blood levels pumping, huh?”

“Fuck you.”

“Be my guest,” Higgs says with another laugh, stepping as close as possible without touching. “Maybe you’re a little shy, so I’ll share first. I gotta admit it is immensely satisfying – fucking your fist, looking at a neat little assortment of printed surveillance shots. Never really spared sex much thought, you see; I got other shit to take care of. But you… oh, you, Sam, you caught me by surprise. Just lit up something in me I never expected.”

Each word is highlighted by the most subtle of hitched breaths, a barely concealed moan pushing out of Higgs’ chest, and Sam can feel his thighs grow warm as his cock becomes painful with the need to release.

“I can be merciful if I want to be,” Higgs continues. “I can help you cum. Hell, I won’t even wear my mask since you like my face so much—” 

Sam manages to shut him up by rocking back against him, his nude body connecting with every point of Higgs’ still clothed frame. The touch sends a whole slue of miniature shocks of electricity exploding through Sam’s skin, like chiralium vibrating with a life all its own within the spaces between his organs.

Despite the layers of clothing, all soaked through and undoubtedly heavy, Sam can feel the hard press of Higgs’ erection against the small of his back. He can feel Higgs tense up, something akin to anger snapping his muscles taut at the contact. For someone who derives twisted satisfaction from touching when his touch is least wanted, Higgs does not seem pleased to have that power taken from him.

Now certain he has the upper hand even in such a vulnerable state, Sam turns around and presses back against the shower wall to stare up at the man who looms over him – more a deer caught in the headlights than a predator about to tear into a meal. He isn’t wearing his gold mask, but his hood is still up as if to needlessly protect him from shower water. Sam watches him clench his jaw, then unclench it, shoulders shifting as he debates his next move, but just like that his easy smile is back, that charming façade he wears so well slipping into its proper place.

“All talk no bite,” Sam says. “Water’s getting cold.”

Higgs blinks, more out of seduction than confusion – a small movement as he leans down and takes the smell of Sam’s neck deep into his lungs. 

It would be kind of amusing if the security alarm wouldn’t have gone off right then, startling Sam and only getting an annoyed eyeroll from Higgs. “Seems like I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he says, pulling away.

Sam stops him by grabbing onto the front of his cowl, holding him steadily in place. “We got a few minutes.” The words are out before he can think better of it. A rarity, given how careful he usually is by avoiding speaking anything unless he absolutely must.

The small smile on Higgs’ face transforms into a dangerous grin, augmented by the flashing red coming off the modesty screen. “I’ll try not to disappoint, darlin’.”

Sam licks his lips as he watches Higgs go to his knees, pulling back his hood as he does so. He wastes no time in wrapping his thin lips around Sam’s cockhead, sucking hard enough to make Sam gasp so loud he feels embarrassed by the sound.

Higgs goes in, swallowing him until the tip of his surprisingly cold nose nudges the wiry hairs of Sam’s groin. And then he stays there, his tongue twitching along the underside of his length as he makes a high keening noise that sounds a lot like a whine. Higgs pulls off after a few seconds, gasping for air, still grinning, eyes wide and swimming with delirium.

“It’s a real shame you don’t put that dick to good use more often,” Higgs says, slickening his lips with spit as he opens up again, but this time, Sam takes the reigns from him.

Fingers dig into Higgs’ scalp, grabbing a fistful of his wet hair and forcefully tugging him forward onto Sam’s stiff cock. Higgs goes as willingly as a starving man being offered a pizza with every delectable topping around the planet, a sound dying in his throat as he’s facefucked with little concern to his well-being.

Sam holds him in place, bucking his hips for more of the wet heat of Higgs’ velvety smooth mouth. He feels euphoric, every point that can possibly feel sensation redirecting to where mouth meets cock, building him up, pushing him higher, enveloping him in pleasure he hasn’t experienced in decades.

“Holy shit,” he gasps out, cutting off a moan he was painfully aware of building in his throat. “Fuck. _Fuck._ ”

Higgs braces himself against the shower wall, allowing Sam to take what he wants, looking smug despite the stuffed mouth and ruined makeup. 

Big blue eyes flick up to stare at Sam, nostrils flared in hopes of catching a breath, and it’s enough. It’s enough to make Sam snap his hips forward once, twice, three times – making Higgs choke and gag when he shoots down his throat. 

Sam pulls out halfway through his orgasm, mostly to grant Higgs the ability to breathe, but the thick strings of cum that momentarily decorate his cheek and eyelids before washing away makes his cock squirt one last time.

Suddenly exhausted beyond words, Sam leans back against the wall and shuts his eyes, panting harder than he did the last time he had to run across a terrorist camp for a delivery. Higgs nuzzles his softening cock, however, pressing a flurry of featherlight kisses to it, before pressing one last kiss to the joint between groin and thigh when Sam pushes him away due to overstimulation. “Cut it out.”

“I suck the ka out of your ha through your dick and this is how you thank me?”

“You telling me that wasn’t enough to shut you up?” But the quip is accompanied by Sam hesitantly touching his fingertips to Higgs’ cheek, his thumb rubbing along the bottom lid to further smear his makeup. It hasn’t escaped him – the fact that Higgs hasn’t used his hands to touch him and has allowed Sam to take control of the situation.

Higgs’ toothy smirk is accompanied by him leaning into Sam’s touch only slightly. “If you’re looking to leave me speechless, you’re gonna have to work a lil’ harder than that, Sammy.”

The alarms continue to blare, grating to Sam’s ears. He watches Higgs rise to his feet with no effort, his face still an utter mess of makeup and bodily fluids until he takes a moment to wash it off under the now-cold shower. He looks a world different with a clean face, and Sam doesn’t know how to feel about it.

“The days of free deliveries are behind me,” Higgs says, abruptly turning to Sam and leaning in, pressing his lips to the corner of Sam’s own. “I hope you’re so inclined to return the favor at a later date.” He cups his own groin as if Sam hadn’t gotten what he meant, before vanishing with the usual crackle that follows a jump.

The aftermath comes in a flurry: blindly shutting the water off and stumbling out before he’s even dry, he’s quick to shout in the general direction of the room that it’s all good and he has no idea as to why the alerts even went off when it was just him. Nobody believes it, but no one questions him any further under the understanding that even Sam needs some company occasionally.

Legs like jelly and stomach a little queasy, Sam plops down onto the cot with a groan, toes and fingers tingling with a foreign sensation as he lays on his side. It isn’t the first time he’s ever been intimate, but it’s definitely the first time he’s enjoyed it to this extent. Maybe he’s more into Higgs than he thought himself to be, or maybe Higgs’ oral fixation is a huge point in his favor for this kind of thing. Either way, Sam could sleep for an entire day given the chance. BRIDGES can do without him for a couple extra hours.

_EX grenade no. 0 plus._

Sam huffs.

“Sam, Heartman here.”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” he quickly snaps, reaching for the nearest unused pillow and holding it against the side of his head to block out any incoming communications. He will deal with the fallout later, when he’s no longer wishing Higgs had touched him just a little bit more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a oneshot all on its own, but then I decided to make it into a faux-chapter because I called back to the original piece one too many times.
> 
> Beta reading's for cowards.

The torrential downpour that catches Sam on his way up to Mountain Knot has him seeking shelter in a cave just west of the river, the only timefall shelter within eyesight destroyed beyond repair. He can likely tough it out, hike up the mountain with only a few splashes here and there, but the tumbling boulders leaving muddy tracks makes it more trouble than its worth. Instead, he decides to wait it out once he double checks that none of his deliveries are on a time limit.

He waits, but then fog decides to roll in – spreading through the rocky foothills thick enough to obscure any structure two meters past the mouth of the cave.

“Fuck me,” Sam grumbles, hands on his hips as he debates his options. He can still risk it, try for the distro center at a snail’s pace. The area is infested with BTs, but it’s nothing he’s never done before.

“If you’re so inclined.” The voice manifests before the familiar crackle of materializing chiral particles reveals a free-floating golden mask.

“Should’ve known this was you.”

“Contrary to what you may think, I don’t control all of the weather.” Higgs appears amidst a shower of sparks, hand over his chest as he bows in greeting. “This area is more prone to it without my interfering.”

“Can’t you make it go away?”

“Why would I?”

“I got shit to do.”

“Don’t we all,” Higgs says, standing at the edge of the cave and looking up, as if to measure how much longer it will continue to rain. “Always on the go. Little engines chugging on and on and on without rest.” He turns to Sam, cocking his head to the side. “Why don’t we take a short break?”

Sam adjusts the straps on his shoulders, eyeing Higgs warily. He briefly considers his words, and the more he lingers on the them, the more alluring of an idea it is. Not an hour ago Sam was thinking how much his back could use a load off, telling Lou how nice it would be for someone to fill in for him for a day.

Higgs isn’t altruistic enough to suggest it out of the goodness of his heart, and Sam abruptly remembers the last words he whispered against his mouth that one time. _I hope you’re so inclined to return the favor at a later date._ It’s been months since their impromptu romp in the shower. Sam had almost forgotten about it. Almost.

“There it is,” Higgs says. “I thought we’d had a moment.”

Sam places a hand over Lou’s pod, thoughtfully looking down at it. There are no privacy screens here, nothing to hook Lou up to and let her rest while he messes around with someone he probably shouldn’t be fraternizing with. But then, Sam remembers he doesn’t give a flying fuck about what people think. Higgs gets him going in ways no one else has in what feels like forever. Bridges can fuck off.

“Get some shuteye, baby girl,” Sam tells Lou, and she garbles a reply before yawning and stretching out her tiny little limbs. Sam unhooks the pod and carefully detaches it from himself, gently placing it out of the way towards the back of the cave but well within sight.

He turns to Higgs who hasn’t moved an inch, watching Sam through the layers of his masks.

“Alright. Let’s get this show on the road,” Sam says, cracking his knuckles. “How we doing this?”

“You can’t just ask those things, Sam.”

“Why not?”

“You have to go with the flow. Let the music move you.”

“Only thing moving me right now is the need to get off. Either get to the fucking point or go waste someone else’s time.”

Higgs sighs, holding out his hands in a hopeless gesture. “Romance truly is dead, but I do appreciate your practicality.” He approaches Sam with a careful stride, hands visible at all times. “Get mine, get yours. If memory serves, you already got yours.”

Sam allows him to stand toe to toe— Higgs towering over him with an attempt at intimidation, but Sam knows he can take him with his bare hands if need be. But if there’s one thing he’s learned about Higgs, it’s that deep down he has a hedonistic streak. Sam could sometimes feel Higgs observing him from another plane, felt the languid pleasure that rolled off Higgs even in his absence. The truth is that Higgs has returned for more of the indiscretion they shared in the shower, and had he wanted to hurt him, he would have done so already.

“This ain’t the most comfortable of places,” Sam says, reaching up and touching his gloved fingertips to the gold mask. Its surface vibrates subatomically, radiating intense heat as it does so. It detaches easily, and Sam looks it over before carelessly tossing it aside. “My knees’re already kinda achy.”

Higgs snorts. “If you’re trying to make feel sorry for you, I’m afraid that isn’t going to work. I’ve seen what you can do, Sammy, how far you can climb, run. Cross a river with—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t wanna hear how often you creep on me.”

“No more than you keep me in your thoughts.”

“That’s different.”

“I hardly think so.”

“I don’t spend my spare time in my bunker jacking off all the goddamn time. Take that stupid mask off. Lemme see your face.”

Higgs hums – with agreement or annoyance, Sam can’t really tell – and pulls back his striped hood. He does quick work of the zipper at the back of his VOG mask and removes it, running a hand through his hair as an afterthought. “That’s because you’re a goodie-two-shoes.” To accentuate his statement, Higgs leans forward to lick a strip up Sam’s left cheek. “But I guess I like the idea of me making you filthy.”

Sam doesn’t react, only turning away to detach his cargo and carefully set it on the ground. He goes as far as to remove parts of the harness not attached to his jumpsuit, and even unzips the top half and frees his arms. He smiles inwardly at how Higgs unapologetically ogles him. “Talking like you’re the first person ever to bump uglies with me.”

“I can’t imagine there’s been many.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong.”

“I _am_ interrupting your delivery,” Higgs nearly purrs as Sam approaches him again. “Being a naughty, naughty boy. Surely I deserve a good spankin’.”

“You wish.”

Higgs laughs when Sam grabs him by the quipu – an ugly monster of a feeling thrashing in his chest when he does so – and drags him down onto the mossy ground of the damp cave.

Rumbling thunder reverberates under Sam’s skin, the patter of timefall against the unforgiving terrain almost soothing outside of their shelter. There’s a chill in the air that makes his hair stand on end, rolling in with the fog that adds a layer of privacy to their little rendezvous. The earth smells upturned but Higgs’ scent is stronger: leather and oil, chiralium and sweat.

Bare back propped up against a boulder against his better judgment, Sam allows Higgs to straddle his lap. The sharp sensation of jagged imperfections on his already bruised skin is a welcome balance to the heat and weight evenly displaced over his thighs. He then regrets partially undressing when the familiar wisps of anxiety painfully tighten along his spine, settling deep inside his shoulder blades, but just like last time, Higgs does not touch him.

In fact, Higgs holds his hands at his back, eyeing Sam intensely before taking another taste – this time licking a long and slow path up the side of Sam’s neck. He repeats the action on the other side, humming with self-satisfaction, and the low sound feels like a caress along the length of Sam’s stiffening cock.

“What is it with you and licking people?” Sam says, but he leans more heavily against the boulder at his back, tipping back his head.

Higgs grinds against him, and Sam swallows a surprised moan.

“Pissing on you wouldn’t go over as well… unless you’re into that kind of thing.”

“I ain’t your territory.”

“Oh, but you are,” Higgs says in a breathy whisper, laughing softly as he licks the seam of Sam’s lips. “As I’m yours. In case you forgot that glorious load you delivered down my throat.”

Heat crawls up Sam’s neck, but he brushes it off in favor of patting the pod still attached to Higgs. “You gonna take this off?”

“It won’t bother us.”

“So, I can be shirtless but you refuse to even take your BB off.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“C’mon, Higgs.”

The look in his icy blue eyes is cutting, like doors slamming shut in the face of a winter storm. The smug look slides into something standoffish, and Higgs would have pulled away had Sam not grabbed a hold of his thigh.

The touch seems to jar him, nearly sending him scrambling away, but Sam holds fast. “Keep it, then,” he tries as unoffensively as possible. Higgs is immediately less tense once Sam stops touching him, and the entire ordeal settles on his mind like a bad case of whiplash. “You have it, too.”

Higgs clenches his jaw but doesn’t otherwise move, staring Sam down with an eerily blank expression. “Have what?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t like being touched without warning,” Higgs states as simply as explaining the weather.

Sam nearly punches him for the comment. Rich, coming from a motherfucker who gets himself off by licking people without their consent. “I’ve touched you before.”

“Punching is a whole different kind of touch.”

“And hair pulling?”

“Both actions carry violent connotations.” Higgs’ grin is nearly blinding, until he realizes what he’s said.

Sam watches the mirth slowly vanish once more, this time leaving traces of something far darker in its wake. Despite the hollowness of Higgs’ constant string of ramblings, his face is considerably more expressive than his words could ever be. Right now, Sam can see he’s confessed to something ugly and twisted, and he isn’t happy about it.

“You should know all about that,” Higgs tries to deflect. “What was her name again? That lovely little lady you called _Honey_ and left all those beautiful bruises on your body? Real piece of work, that one. Now wonder you’re so fucked up, Sammy.”

Sam merely blinks up at him, the taunt sliding off him like timefall over water-resistant canvas. He had heard rumors, read reports on Higgs’ background. The abuse he had taken during his formative years had only been implied, but Sam can see it now, blatantly painted as dark as the lines that surround his eyes.

They’re both broken men in a world that does not care.

It makes sense now, why Higgs suddenly became aware and almost respectful of Sam’s physical boundaries when it became apparent that they would consensually partake in each other’s company. 

_It’s okay to touch with the intention to cause harm—because that is what touch is intended for. To maim. To subjugate. No surprises. Cut and dry._

Sam is unsure of where the train of thought came from, but he emerges from it out of breath and dazed, staring up at Higgs with a frown that makes him sag his shoulders. It’s as if he’d peered into the darkest corners of him, ripped away dozens of layers of black and gold.

“Damaged cargo is still wanted,” Sam says.

Higgs’ eyes light up again, the easy expression redecorating his face. “Do you want me?”

Despite the innocuous question, the undercurrent it carries through feels dangerous. The thought is driven home when Higgs presses the palm of his right hand over Sam’s chest, dead center. A gloved touch is more tolerable than a bare one, but something about the warm material leaves Sam feeling cold.

Higgs rocks his hips, moving in tight little circles, making sure to press his hardness as best he can against the cross-shaped scar on Sam’s belly. His fingers dig into flesh as he leans over Sam, too wanton to possibly come off as threatening.

Sam grabs his hips and pulls him down onto his lap fully, spreading his legs and digging the heel of his boots against the soft ground for better purchase. He bucks upward, craving more weight, more friction against his dick.

For one delirious moment, Sam considers getting them both naked. The memory of Higgs’ mouth on his cock leads him to the zipper just beneath his cloak, suddenly ravenous for more of the man moving so sinuously on his lap. But Higgs stops him, the hand not touching Sam wrapping painfully tight around the offending wrist.

“Ah, ah, ah. You don’t get to unwrap this gift.”

“That’s my answer, douchebag.”

“You’re not treating me very nicely.”

“Want me to hold your fucking hand?”

The hand on Sam’s chest moves in a wide swath, catching a nipple between two fingers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “No,” Higgs says, pressing a kiss to Sam’s ear before licking at the earlobe, taking a moment to moan theatrically. “But you can hold me down.”

Air catches in Sam’s throat before he moves, slamming Higgs backwards onto the unforgiving cave floor. He straddles him, breath visible as his hands press down against Higgs’ shoulders. Sam looms over him, staring at the face cockily claiming victory over such a small taunt. “I’m not beating you, if that’s what you’re aiming for.”

Higgs betrays nothing, instead grabbing Sam’s hand and bringing it to rest at the base of his neck. There’s nothing but more fabric there, no exposed skin, but Sam is still put off by how perfectly his hand fits within the sacred space. He squeezes – ever so lightly – and Higgs’ mouth falls open with a hot pant.

Sam ruts against him like an animal in heat, Higgs arching up to meet him to the best of his ability as he grins with eyes too wide. A hand wrapped around the arm holding Higgs’ down, he uses his free one to pull the chiral folding knife he keeps strapped to his wrist and, in one swift move, cut free Sam’s hair.

Sam narrows his eyes but doesn’t otherwise react, knowing there isn’t much Higgs can do with the weapon given their current position. His hair does get in his face, which is annoying, but not as annoying as Higgs grabbing a firm hold of it and yanking Sam down to him. The pod digs painfully against his stomach, the metal almost freezing against his feverishly warm skin. He tries to scoot back, regain his balance, but Higgs leans up enough to press his mouth against Sam’s in a chaste kiss.

His lips are dry and thin, and the motion is so sudden Sam tenses, unsure of what to do. Higgs is insistent, clumsily brushing their mouths together like a teenager who’s never been kissed, and Sam wonders if that’s exactly the reason why. The man beneath him with a clearly fucked up notion of intimacy, has probably never been kissed. The thought is a depressing one, a sharp reminder of the current state of the world (not that he ever forgot it – not that he could ever forget).

With a resigned sigh and a feeble attempt at better accommodating himself over the equipment strapped to Higgs’ chest, Sam returns the kiss with careful attention.

The frenzied slobbering eases into slow motions and a soft brush of lips, and then tongue, and mindful hums of approval as each kiss lasts longer than the last. It doesn’t take much for Higgs to become playful, nipping at Sam’s bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, letting it go, and sealing another full kiss.

The motion of their bodies doesn’t stop, a hard grind that is nowhere near enough to get them off, but the constant build of pleasure has Sam panting into Higgs’ mouth, eyes squeezed shut. It’s almost worth it, getting partially undressed and letting himself be touched, be kissed as the sound of timefall against fresh earth lulls him into a sense of faux romance, an intimacy he doesn’t really miss but still feels nice to participate in. No to mention the fact that he likes having Higgs so pliant beneath him, almost submissive as he lays there and lets Sam do as he pleases.

Of course, he won’t shut up. Higgs runs his mouth a hundred miles a minute whenever it’s not occupied with Sam’s, rambling senselessly and dropping filth that would make any grown man blush. Sam dutifully ignores the warmth he feels radiating off his ears and neck as he rams himself harder, putting all his weight into that one point that throbs with wicked need.

Letting go of Higgs’ throat – much to the man’s visible discontent – Sam unzips his jumpsuit the rest of the way and pulls himself out, spitting on his hand before hurriedly stroking his cock. He watches Higgs watch him, propping himself up on his elbows to admire the thick meat quickly vanishing in and out of his fist. Sam presses it against the clothed bulge of Higgs’ groin, rubbing himself off against the thick fabric, along the outline of his hard cock.

Higgs spreads his legs to further accommodate Sam’s broad body, sucking on his bottom lip as he stares with glossy eyes and a rapidly rising and falling chest. “You’d fuck me if I let you,” he says, “Right fucking here, right fucking now.”

Sam groans, tightening his fist, pumping faster, overcome with the desire to just rip Higgs’ jumpsuit right open and finish what so many before him failed to do: ruin him passed the point of no return.

“Stuff me nice and full, Sammy. Split me apart, then put me back together again. Making sure it hurts, that I remember my place… right underneath the Great Deliverer.”

“Shut up, Higgs.”

“Just—oh. _Oh_ , fuck,” Higgs hisses. “Say it again. I want you to say my name while making that face.”

“Fuck you.”

Higgs laughs. “Bet you don’t even realize it. You’re making the prettiest faces, Sammy. Eyes squeezing shut, mouth all pouty and red, is that drool?” Higgs grabs Sam by the back of the neck and pulls him forward again, smashing their mouths together as he bucks into the exposed cock that leaks onto his uniform.

Sam can’t help the moan that is unceremoniously ripped right out of his chest, driving his hand in a frenzy as he spills all over Higgs’ lap with a sharp twitch of his hips.

Fearing that Higgs will disappear once again, Sam quickly grabs the engorged cock still trapped within Higgs’ clothes and strokes, keeping him pinned in place by hand and mouth. Higgs’ surprised gasp is quickly drowned up by a whine, a frantic scramble for purchase as he tries to push himself away from the onslaught, but Sam offers no mercy.

It doesn’t take long before black tar streaks down Higgs’ stubbled cheeks, mouth slack as his head tips back in a rare demonstration of emotion that isn’t smugness, cruelty, or apathy. Sam watches every twitch and micro spasm that takes Higgs’ body as he cums soundlessly, held in place by Sam’s body.

Something instinctual tells Sam to bring Higgs to him, to rest him against his chest and hold him as he catches his breath, but he hasn’t forgotten about the gold knife just within reach. Higgs came to him once, on his own, that day at the distro center. He’s done so again, with the pretense of getting off with no strings attached. But that’s the shit, isn’t it? All the talk about building bridges and forming strands, connecting. Sam can feel Higgs when they’re mountains apart, which means Higgs can probably feel him, too.

“Don’t get sappy on me,” Higgs says, resting back on his hands as he stares up at the cave’s ceiling. “Let’s call this – ah – a business transaction, of sorts.”

“Hope you got a spare jumpsuit lying around.” Sam pushes a hand up Higgs’ thigh, steering clear of their mess. “I’d recommend chucking it into an incinerator, but you’ll probably get your jollies off by sniffing it.”

“Just sounds like you want it for yourself.” Higgs finally straightens up without getting himself out of the mess of limbs they’re tangled in, and briefly kisses Sam. “I could eat your tongue. I want it in my mouth.”

“Weird way of saying you like kissing, but sure, whatever.”

This time, they linger. They don’t quite hold each other, but there are no alarms going off and no nosy scientists trying to get to his spunk to merit any sort of hurry. Sam does nuzzle the side of Higgs’ face, dragging the tip of his nose along the rough stubble.

Sam is the first to break contact, getting to his feet and readjusting himself before offering Higgs a hand up. Higgs brushes it away and gets up after a long moment of sitting there, looking out of sorts and kind of lost.

“Look, Higgs,” but the crackle of a jump leaves Sam’s words in the dust. He should have seen it coming, but the truth is Sam didn’t even know what he was about to say. It isn’t like him to sputter words without thinking them through, speaking unless he absolutely needs to, but something just clicked and he needed to address it.

It’ll just have to wait until Higgs decided to show his stupid face again.

Rummaging through his cargo and arranging it in the most effect way, he spots Lou staring up at him with a vaguely judgmental glare. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he says in response to her garbled cooing. He picks her up and attaches the pod, lovingly patting the scratched surface. “Trying to figure it out myself.”

The rain has stopped, and he feels surprisingly well rested. With a fresh pair of boots on his feet, Sam continues on his way to Mountain Knot City.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIED. There's one more chapter because this one got WAY too long and had to chop it in half.

_London Bridge is falling down—_

_—ring around the rosie—_

_— round and round and round it goes—_

_—where it stops…_

“Nobody knows,” Higgs says to the frigid air that buffets around him. “Nobody ever really knows, do they, Higgsy boy? Oh, but _she_ knows. For she is wise and powerful and true. She is the Truth in the End Times.” 

_And you are nothing without her._

The same thoughts play over and over like a pre-Stranding record player, the cutting truth he so avidly devoured only to leave him emptier than he was before. With the power granted by the EE came the annihilation of whatever was left of his already precarious humanity, dissolving in the wispy mists of chiral matter. 

Humanity was no longer of any use to him. Never had been, really; now that he thinks about it. The older he got the clearer it became that the life he led was not one others would call humane: daddies are not supposed to do those things, so on, so forth. But those others never understood—Fragile never understood, neither did his men. One needs scavenge for food and for touch, and all there is to find are week-old pizza crusts and a permanently crooked nose.

Humanity is unnecessary when the cons outweigh the pros. For every immaculate city apartment are ten beat kids out in the wastelands of America. For ever healthy adult, are twenty madmen with a cause and no will to live, driven only by the electric need to drag as many people into the afterlife as he possibly can—like a drug sensually fucking each and every one of his senses.

Higgs knows he’s technically the bad guy, every story must have one, but it’s all just a matter of perspective. He and Amelie… they’re trying to nip the suffering at the bud. Amelie, because it is what the mystery of the cosmos has bestowed upon her. Higgs, because he believes nobody deserves the life he’s lived—but not until they have all experienced some form of it firsthand.

Divine justice served hand in hand with divine retribution. The lull of a breeze, a warm hand to the shoulder, before the violent whipping of a storm. Just like Daddy used to do. A lot of times Higgs found himself wishing he would just get to the point, unleash his wrath without the prelude of soft words and unwanted affection. Higgs would not be so cruel.

Cruelty. He could never be so cruel. Like ripping off a bandage, he is quick and succinct. He’s nothing like Daddy, nothing like _Sam_ who plays games that have no room in the final act of the grand finale. The motherfucker who has the balls to touch him, building and building to something Higgs has no shield against. Just like with Daddy, Higgs can’t tell when the hit is going to come, when they’re going to try and break him again.

_Can’t do jack shit now that Daddy is a repatriate. No voidouts. He’ll just come back. Beat you again. And you’ll come right back like the pathetic little bitch you are, thinking it’ll be different this time._

Higgs abruptly ends the mental tirade by biting through his bottom lip. The tang of his own blood brings him back to a hazy perception of reality, one that is composed of endless meters of snow and not a structure or vehicle in sight.

He sucks in a breath cold enough to burn his lungs, shocking him back to clarity. He frowns. 

He doesn’t know what to call these little slips, when he finds himself unceremoniously thrown into a pit in which a voice that doesn’t belong to him likes to narrate the nightmares he’s long sought to bury. In fact, Higgs has a hard time remembering why he is where he is. Moments ago, he had left camp with the intention to either calm himself or start shit – and he can’t tell which he’s chosen and which has led him to the middle of nowhere.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, beginning an aimless walk along the winter wonderland. He could jump to wherever he wants, whenever he wants—but instead he walks.

Higgs trudges through the snow, knee to chest, pushing against the immovable sea of white. He walks until his chest cracks like thin ice, fingers senseless within the fabric of his gloves, toes as good as nonexistent. Neither dressed for the weather nor caring about it, Higgs considers his unfortunate class of humanity.

He isn’t immune to the elements, despite his apparent immortality. Hypothermia is still an option. Drowning. A bullet to the mouth. Each potential escape only leads to him waking up with his permanent headache becoming more acute. He supposes not everyone can be as divine as god Herself.

Rather than head back, Higgs continues. He pushes on until his mind blanks, the burn in his legs growing similar to a gunshot wound. It blooms farther out, suffocating, until the layers of his clothing become unbearable. 

Stumbling over partially hidden rocks, in a valley enclosed by mountains that loom like sleeping giants, Higgs rips of his cloak. He lets it fly out of his grasp, whiteout conditions blinding him. He kicks off his boots—the heat now searing right through to his bones—his gloves, his jumpsuit, his masks. He struggles with his underclothes, the shirt too form-fitting to easily peel off, but he succeeds. 

He succeeds and it somehow feels hotter. 

He can’t breathe. 

He should jump.

Doesn’t matter. What’s another visit to the Seam? He’ll be kicked right back onto this shithole of a world. He won’t die, not until kingdom come and her will be done. He has a role to play, after all, as her prophet, her harbinger, her mouthpiece. Only one step below holy…

Higgs comes to with a start, a gasp ripping out of him before he has the chance to get his bearings.

Wakefulness trickles back to him in segments: he’s warm but not burning, he’s wet, it’s bright out, there are hands on him – one on his back and another behind his right knee – and he’s not lying on stable ground. That last one jolts him upright and he loses what little sense of direction he had garnered, struggling to get on his feet, the sound of splashing thunderously blocking out the voice speaking to him.

“—down. God—Higgs!”

His muscles seize up for a variety of reasons, neither of which he can mention.

“You can sit it in. Look.” The grayed-out sun is in his eyes. “Sit up. You ain’t gonna drown.”

Higgs is maneuvered until he is sitting, and the top half of his body nearly turns to ice. He stiffens when hot water sluices down the top of his head and along his neck and shoulders, making him shiver uncontrollably, much to his added dismay.

“Shivering’s good. Means you won’t go hypothermic, which I’m assuming is something you’ve already done.” Sam finally comes into view, scooping water up in his hands and splashing it on the parts of Higgs’ body that aren’t already submerged.

He’s in a hot spring, and it’s troubling that what tips him off to this are the neon signs all around him.

He’s in a hot spring, and Sam is right there with him.

“What the fuck?” Higgs manages to croak out, bringing up his hands to rub whatever warmth he can into his bare arms.

“That’s what I said when I found you half buried near the summit.” Sam grabs his jaw and twists his head from side to side, letting it go with a slap to the cheek when he apparently approves of what he sees. “Got nothing else to say other than you were dead.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Rumors said you were a repatriate.”

“We all know rumors are always true,” Higgs says through chattering teeth, ruining his attempt at sarcasm. “Careless of you to not whisk me off to an incinerator.”

“You’re too tall to go on my back. I hoped for the best.”

Higgs glares at him, then tries his best to sink further into the water. “So you brought me to a hot spring? I see you’ve been wasting your time listening to that whackjob lady up the mount—” The sentence is interrupted by a cryptobiote being unceremoniously shoved into his mouth.

“It’ll make you feel better,” Sam says, taking another one out of the jar he seemingly pulled out of his ass. “Eat up.” He holds the wiggly bastard to Higgs’ mouth, as if waiting for him to take a bite now that he’s shut him up.

Higgs eats it. “Why are you doing this?”

“I tried looking for your clothes. You wanna tell me what happened out there?”

“You can’t answer a question with a question.”

“I just did.” Sam’s holding up another cryptobiote, but Higgs pushes it away. It’s only then that he realizes Sam is fully dressed, his ugly blue Bridges jumpsuit thoroughly soaked. “Don’t make me force it down your throat.”

Higgs grins, baring his teeth. “Be my guest.”

“Quit being an asshole for five fucking minutes.” Sam scoops up more water instead, trickling it down Higgs’ shoulder.

They’re both quiet for a moment, Sam’s eyes trained on his task as Higgs watches him work with the same diligence that’s earned him his legendary status. It makes his hairs stand on end for reasons unrelated to the cold, and maybe it’s the adrenaline of the repatriation, or the revitalizing properties of the spring, but he can feel the beginning curl of arousal settling deep in his gut.

A punch is a much more concise love letter than any careful touch Sam delivers. Violence is black and white, it hides no monsters because there is no veil to hide behind, which is why Higgs would rather Sam bust his lip open instead of nurturing him back to health. He can’t see the truth behind the act; what Sam’s true motivation is.

Sam grabs his hands and digs his thumb and forefinger into them, massaging sensation back into numb fingers. He’s meticulous, professional even, and Higgs knows right off the bat Sam’s previous question has more to do with the state of his body than how he was discovered.

“If you talk more I’ll talk less,” Higgs says. It’s partially a joke, but it makes Sam shake his head. “You can call it a perk for being hand-chosen by an EE. Come on, you can’t tell me you’re all that surprised I’m immune to timefall.”

“You’re not immune to the rain.”

Higgs shrugs. “I’ve stopped asking questions. I’m a man of action, not a philosopher.”

“Gonna tell me why I found you like that?”

“Paradoxical undressing, I believe is the term.”

“No, I mean why you were in the area. You’re not exactly the traveling type.”

“I had business to tend to.”

“Nothing that couldn’t be done by popping in?”

“I don’t need to tell you, of all people, that some jobs require a different approach if they’re to be done properly.”

“You’re right, you don’t.” Sam adjusts himself so that he’s sitting directly behind Higgs, and without so much a warning grabs him by the shoulders and guides him so that his back rests over Sam’s chest. Higgs struggles against the hold, unwilling to succumb, but Sam is far stronger than him in this state. “Look, what happens in the spring stays in the spring. We can go back to whatever fucked up arrangement we have once you’re feeling up to standing again.”

Higgs clenches his jaw, briefly considers biting the arms holding him in place, but his shoulders sag the moment Sam splashes some more of the hot water over what little is exposed to the elements still. It feels nice—a different kind of nice than he’s used to, with less death and destruction and the satisfaction that comes from a plan perfectly executed.

A hand cards through his hair, and it’s over.

Higgs releases a long breath through his nose, collapsing against Sam like the useless child that he is. Delivering himself to the lap of he who would devour him were he weak enough to allow it. And much to Higgs’ displeasure, he doesn’t think he has the willpower to fight it.

Sam continues to bathe him with evenly measured movements, bringing life back into his extremities and sense back into his unstable mind. But even when Higgs is sure he can get up again, Sam continues with the same meditative cadence.

“There is an irony to the handprints on your skin,” Higgs says after a long moment of contemplative silence, “given your condition.” He lifts his own arm, both to inspect it and to show Sam the off-putting colors of his skin.

Purple patches have now passed onto deep red, its green edges taking on a sickly yellow pallor. The palest of blooms are turning dark again, a revolting brown that blends and spreads like spilled ink under the layers of skin. That his body is a canvass that holds each bruise he has ever received, from accidentally falling into a table when he was learning to walk as a toddler, to the places Daddy’s knife sunk in with sadistic delight – sometimes he wishes his body would erode under the effects of timefall.

“I don’t much care for my face,” he continues, “but the rest of me is an altar.”

“A pretty profane one, if you ask me.”

Higgs smiles, wiggling his toes when they finally stop feeling like pins and needles. “You’re keeping that uniform on? You’re going to regret walking anywhere after this.”

“Priorities.”

“I’m sure my corpse could have waited a couple more minutes.”

“I figured it’d be less anxiety-inducing if I touched you with my clothes still on,” Sam says matter-of-factly. “You said you didn’t like being touched without warning, so this is the best I could do given you were buck naked. I got some cargo with clothes in it you can use until we can get you something warmer.”

Higgs stares at the bright sky, its chiral clouds illuminated by a sun he’s never seen. “And blemish your impeccable track record?”

“I’ve lost shit before. Not like they can’t reissue the order.” Sam hesitates. “I don’t know what to do about your BB. I couldn’t find it.”

“Oh.” Now that he thinks about it, he can’t recall what he’d done with it. He jumped to somewhere in the mountains, and it was just gone by the time he came to. Which means he won’t be able to jump back once he’s ready. A spark of panic is quick to grab hold of him—having lost his connection to the Beach. He may have a quipu, somewhere, but it could never compare to the abilities his BB fine-tunes. “It’s just equipment. I can get another one.”

The garbled sound of a coo makes Higgs look to the side, where he spots a familiar yellow pod floating a fair distance from him. Sam’s BB is swimming in its own fluid, moving the pod with a vengeance.

“He didn’t mean it, Lou,” Sam says, smacking Higgs up the head.

Higgs reaches up to rub where Sam’s meaty hand made contact with his skull, pouting. “Ouch. Now you have to kiss it better.” The playful barb is ignored by Sam, who touches the bruise around the base of Higgs’ throat. His thumb presses hard enough to make Higgs sigh, the dull thrum of pain a comfort in an otherwise unfamiliar spectacle. “That one’s all yours, Sammy boy.”

“I didn’t even press that hard.”

“I’m a lot more fragile than I look.” Higgs turns around, suppressing a shiver when the cold air hits his back. He half crawls, half swims until he’s crowding Sam, the tip of his nose trailing the blunt edges of his jawline. “You have my express permission to leave as many as you like, however you’d like. As long as you keep in mind that I break fairly easily.”

Sam lifts a hand to touch the side of Higgs’ face, rubbing his thumb along his temple before settling for a hold on the back of Higgs’ neck. It serves to help him stay still, keeping him unusually grounded in such a surreal suspension of disbelief. Higgs readies himself for a kiss, but Sam pushes him away and gets up, disturbing the cloudy water around them.

“We should go before the weather gets worse again,” Sam says, reaching for the largest cargo container and slicing the packaging tape off with his cuff. He doesn’t spare a thought to the clothes he’s pulling out, doing quick work of undressing and slipping on a pair of standard pants and an equally plain coat. “These’ll probably be too big on you, but it should be enough to keep you warm until we reach a safehouse. I saw one on the other side of that ridge.”

Higgs remains sitting in the spring, its eggy smell prominent now that he’s noticed it. The BB’s pod bumps into his side, and he thoughtlessly nudges it in Sam’s direction.

Digging his toes into the muddy floor, Higgs concentrates in an attempt to jump – in an attempt to do anything, really, either make it snow on command or summon one of his precious little kittens – but nothing happens. He suppresses the chilling nausea that contracts his stomach walls, an overwhelming spike of terror immobilizing him as Sam asks something he doesn’t catch.

Maybe he just needs to recharge due to the absence of his strands. Whatever fuckery that led him here must have thrown him off his game. Or maybe this is a test – God challenging his faith, making sure he’s still on the right path and hasn’t gotten distracted by shaggy-haired porters with indifferent attitudes towards their goal.

But he can’t kill Sam for obvious reasons and maiming him beyond repair is out of the question, as per the EE’s direct order. He’s at a loss of what is expected of him, and Higgs laughs at the thought that he’s fooled himself into the very scenario he swore he’d never again trap himself in: powerless, weak, and at another man’s mercy.

“—whenever you get your shit together.” Higgs attention drifts back to Sam, who has been talking for the past couple of moments. “I’m not waiting.” BB and cargo in their correct place, Sam pulls the coat’s collar tighter around his neck as he turns his back to him and begins the painstaking hike up the mountainside.

Higgs stares at the cargo until his eyeballs simultaneously burn and mist, then gets up and makes for the pile of clothes Sam has left neatly folded on top of a bare boulder.

He doesn’t immediately follow Sam, instead choosing to search the surrounding area for any of his belongings.

When nothing turns up, Higgs yells to the top of his lungs. No coherence, not even real words. He yells and yells, kicking snow and throwing whatever small chiral crystals he finds along his aimless path. He yells until he loses his balance and falls to his knees, the snow reaching halfway up his chest like a befitting icy tomb.

With blackened fingertips, exhausted and lost, stripped of his armor in every sense, Higgs follows the tugging in his chest that leads him up the mountain, to Sam, and an unknown far more terror-inducing than any Beach could possibly recreate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join the 18+ **[Kink Stranding Server](https://discord.gg/BrAgN7r)** over at Discord! We're a relatively small group still, but we sure are friendly and love to talk about all kinds of kinky nonsense.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on twitter @ **[astramaxima](https://twitter.com/astramaxima)!**


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